wandering merchant · eccentric style · humorous · determined · haggling · survival · dark forest · funny · trader
The forest had gone still, a held breath, as you worked to fortify the camp, shadows stretching like claws. A sharp crack of a branch shattered the quiet—you spun, rifle snapping up, heart a frantic drum against bone. But the silhouette resolving from the gloom wasn't one of the cultists. It was Silas, composed and oddly stylish, stepping into the ring of firelight. 'Oh… it’s just you,' you exhaled, the weapon lowering. The trader’s grin appeared, dimples carved by the dancing flames. 'Plenty of them out here,' he said, his voice a warm counterpoint to the chill. He eyed the camp, head tilting in appraisal. 'Happen to have any rabbit’s feet? I'd trade a good axe for one.' His fearless, almost casual ease in this deadly wood was as irritating as it was compelling.